Nightmares
by Thunderstorm Thoughts
Summary: "You get nightmares. Like, a lot." Pretty much bonding for Bro and Dave. Hints of unestablished JohnDave. T for swearing.


**AN: I wrote most of this when I was half asleep, so tell me if there are any tense mistakes. Review, perhaps?**  
**It's bonding time, bitch.**  
You get nightmares. Like, a lot. If nightmares were the Olympics, you'd have first place, every time. Others would be crazy jealous of your nightmare game. People would come from every corner of the world to hear about the horrors that came from your mind.  
Alas, there are no nightmare Olympics. There should be, though. Then you could win at_ something_.  
Your nightmares are always the worst. They're all so vivid. Your friends would die, and you would be the one to kill them. Then John, or someone else you had a soft spot for, would plead, would beg for you not to kill them. But you would anyway, and you would laugh at their screaming as you killed them in a sick, twisted way.  
You'd wake up gasping for breath, and you wouldn't be able to find it. Your heart would beat 150 times a minute, and your eyes would be wide with fear at what you- even just you in your dream- were capable of. You would start crying, and you'd be as quiet as you can while sobbing, because you didn't want to wake up Bro, because he would tease you. Then again, did Bro even sleep? After you had dried your eyes, you wouldn't dare go back to sleep.  
You've just kind of added it into your routine by now, but you never get used to it. It was like getting electrocuted. But instead of you getting shocked, you had to watch your friends die. Over and over, each time in a different way.  
You've just woken up from one where you choked them. You wake up, crying out. You quickly slap a hand over your mouth, still breathing heavily. Your panting slows after a minute.  
Someone knocks on your door.  
"Dave? Are you alright?" he actually sounds worried. That's new.  
"Yep. Just peachy, in fact." You reply. It would have been convincing, if you didn't sound like you were about to cry.  
"Dave." He says.  
"It was just a nightmare. I'm fucking fine." You lie. He opens the door, and walks in. He's wearing boxers and a white tank top, and his shades are back in his room. He still looks tired.  
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, and he sits down on the edge of your bed. You pull the covers up to your chin, and glare at him.  
"No, I do not 'want to talk about it'. Just go back to bed." You say. He sighs.  
"Look, I know I'm a terrible guardian, but please just tell me what's wrong." He pleads, and you think back to your dream.  
"I appreciate that you're trying, but I don't want to." You cross your arms, waiting for him to get up.  
"Please?"  
"It's horrible," you say.  
"It can't be that bad." He responds.  
"You're not the one who sees their friends die every night!" You shout. "You don't see the life fade from their eyes, because you're the one who killed them! Every night. Every night I kill them. I hear their screams, Bro!" You're starting to sound hysterical, so you shut up. Bro gets an apologetic look on his face.  
"That wasn't the right thing to say, was it?" He asks. You shake your head.  
"No, it really wasn't."  
"Can I hug you?" He asks. It's kind of an odd question. You can't remember the last time he's hugged you.  
"Um… sure?" It comes out more of a question than an answer. He shuffles towards you, and awkwardly puts his arms around you. You return the hug, and find yourself relaxing into it. It's kind of… nice.  
He lets go of you, and sits at the end of your bed.  
"God, I am so sorry." He says.  
"It's fine." And you mean it.  
"So, what else have I been missing in your life? Tell me everything." He looks so eager that you have to laugh.  
"Well, I have three friends. Rose, Jade, and John. We're pretty good friends, but none of us have met in real life. We have had a few group Skype calls, though."  
"Got a love interest?" Bro asks. You stare at him. "Who is it?"  
"I never said yes."  
"But you didn't say no, either, so spill." He points out.  
"Well John is pretty cute." You say, and open your nightstand drawer. You make a triumphant noise, and pull out a stack of photos, rubber banded together. You spread them out across the bed so both of you could see.  
"Is that him?" Bro asks, pointing to a picture. You follow his finger to one of John, in his house.  
"Yep." You reply. Bro nods in approval.  
"Not bad. So have you told him?" He asks.  
"No! Are you insane?" You ask.  
"Maybe just a little." He laughs, but then turns serious. "But you know Jake, my friend?"  
"…Yeah?" You kind of don't want to know what he's going to say next.  
"I never told him that I loved him, and now he's with Jane. I've always regretted it, and I don't want you to make the same mistake."  
"But how do I even tell him?" You ask. "Do I just say 'Hey, Egderp. You have a cute butt.' or something?"  
"As much as I'd pay to see his reaction, I'd try something more like 'Hey, John? I have something to tell you', in person, or at least when you can see each other's faces, and then tell him how you feel. See how he reacts, and if he returns the feelings, then kiss him. If he doesn't, then ask him to forget you said anything. How does he react around you?"  
"You mean when we talk on Skype?" He nods. "Dorky is the word that comes to mind. He seems to care about my opinion, except when it comes to his god-awful taste in movies. He likes Con Air! But anyway, he does seem a bit nervous, like he's going to mess up or something. Is anything I'm saying important?"  
"All of it. Besides the Con Air bit. It does seem that he likes you back, but I can't be sure." He yawns, and stretches his arms above him.  
"Tired? I think you should sleep now. It's" You check your clock, "four in the morning."  
"You're probably right." He says, getting up. "Goodnight. And please try to go back to sleep?"  
"I'll try." You tell him.  
You don't.


End file.
